Sunday, November 03, 2002
Life As It Seems
This time her eyes are wide open and she isn't staring into her beer. She's staring out the window, clutching her cup of coffee, holding on for dear life. Look out the window and you'll see nothing. She sees nothing as well, if she were to actually be looking out at the street.
Instead, a story is playing in her head, set to the music that she's currently playing. It's a good story, one about love, about hate, and about what anyone will do to anyone else just to get money and power, even if it means trying to kill the one prophet that will save them from ruin. What if the prophecy includes a clause that states that the prophecy won't come true because no one will know until it's too late that a certain person was prophet, and therefore the prophet will become evil and unleash a terror that no one has any hope of controlling? And what if said clause wasn't even known to exist until the events to create the ultimate evil have started? And wouldn't it be so ironic if the one person who was the prophet discovered this clause but never realized that he was the prophet (or the demon), even after discovering this clause? And what if this prophet was hated by his magical order, the head of an empire (he was the prince of very poor patch of island), and the evil souls? Throw into this mix a person who isn't really allowed access to the sacred magical scripts that contain the prophecy but somehow gets her hands on them anyway and realizes who the prophet is. This person makes a deal with evil souls to acquire magic so that she can stop the inevitable events that will cause damnation for the prophet and everyone else. This comes, of course, too late, but she's going to try anyway to save souls, even if it means the end of her life. Throw in the fact that they both come to love each other but steadfastly refuse to admit it. Sounds like the beginnings of a good story, doesn't it?
Stories like this float around Crazy Girl's head.
She can't control them. They pop up out of nowhere. For the longest time she tried to write stories but they just wouldn't work out and she would abandon them. But suddenly, in a time period when friends ignored her and she became depressed, they flowed out onto paper with such force that she couldn't believe it was her own handwriting creating these stories. Since then, the urge hasn't gone away. She can't stop writing. This would not be so bad if she actually tried to socialize but the urge keeps her limited in speech...what she cannot say she cannot stop writing. It's in her poetry, it's in her stories, aided by music that when strung together develops a rich story of its own. Music has always been there for her in way that people haven't. It helps her with her moods, with her insecurites, with anything. She lives for it. And now...the stories are begging to be written down....
This time her eyes are wide open and she isn't staring into her beer. She's staring out the window, clutching her cup of coffee, holding on for dear life. Look out the window and you'll see nothing. She sees nothing as well, if she were to actually be looking out at the street.
Instead, a story is playing in her head, set to the music that she's currently playing. It's a good story, one about love, about hate, and about what anyone will do to anyone else just to get money and power, even if it means trying to kill the one prophet that will save them from ruin. What if the prophecy includes a clause that states that the prophecy won't come true because no one will know until it's too late that a certain person was prophet, and therefore the prophet will become evil and unleash a terror that no one has any hope of controlling? And what if said clause wasn't even known to exist until the events to create the ultimate evil have started? And wouldn't it be so ironic if the one person who was the prophet discovered this clause but never realized that he was the prophet (or the demon), even after discovering this clause? And what if this prophet was hated by his magical order, the head of an empire (he was the prince of very poor patch of island), and the evil souls? Throw into this mix a person who isn't really allowed access to the sacred magical scripts that contain the prophecy but somehow gets her hands on them anyway and realizes who the prophet is. This person makes a deal with evil souls to acquire magic so that she can stop the inevitable events that will cause damnation for the prophet and everyone else. This comes, of course, too late, but she's going to try anyway to save souls, even if it means the end of her life. Throw in the fact that they both come to love each other but steadfastly refuse to admit it. Sounds like the beginnings of a good story, doesn't it?
Stories like this float around Crazy Girl's head.
She can't control them. They pop up out of nowhere. For the longest time she tried to write stories but they just wouldn't work out and she would abandon them. But suddenly, in a time period when friends ignored her and she became depressed, they flowed out onto paper with such force that she couldn't believe it was her own handwriting creating these stories. Since then, the urge hasn't gone away. She can't stop writing. This would not be so bad if she actually tried to socialize but the urge keeps her limited in speech...what she cannot say she cannot stop writing. It's in her poetry, it's in her stories, aided by music that when strung together develops a rich story of its own. Music has always been there for her in way that people haven't. It helps her with her moods, with her insecurites, with anything. She lives for it. And now...the stories are begging to be written down....
# posted by Crazy Girl @ 16:27 
